


Warm

by maskedhero



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskedhero/pseuds/maskedhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleepy thoughts on a late morning, trying on someone else's coat. A short drabble in Zelos' point of view, inspired by some super cute fanart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm

**Author's Note:**

> http://preservedcucumbers.tumblr.com/post/104942588306 this is the fanart that inspired this fic
> 
> I'm hopeless-romantic trash, I'm very sorry

Zelos' eyes fluttered open against his pillow. Morning... late morning. The shuttered window barely held back the sun's rays, straining with the glow. Time to get up. He took a warm sleepy breath, holding it in his lungs as he stretched his sore muscles. He flipped onto his back with a sigh, adjusting heated blankets over his bare skin, not quite ready to face the day.

He had slept so well; he couldn't remember the last time he slept so deeply. It was so easy to lose sleep when you hated yourself, when it's all you can think of in the deep dark, but last night...

Zelos let his head flop to the side, to the empty space next to him. Blankets shoved aside carelessly, sheets askew, the sleepy path of a young man searching for his socks... he let himself smile, let himself imagine what that looked like.

Zelos had kept that young man up for most of the night, just talking, laughing so loudly that their party members complained at the door. They laid in the same bed together, and Zelos teased him about it but he didn't care. That young man listened so intently to everything Zelos had to say, and without any other motive besides _I want to know you, Zelos, I want to listen to you_. He didn't want money, he didn't want sex, he didn't want the Chosen's favor, he wanted to listen. Wanted to learn. They laid in the same bed and talked until their eyes grew heavy and their words drew quiet.

That was one of Lloyd's charms, Zelos supposed: His enthusiasm for friendship, even with traitors. Even with fakes.

_I trust you._

Zelos' chest tightened. His heart fluttered; tingles leaked into his stomach and his face and fingers and he sighed, confused and happy all at once.

_He trusts me._ I _don't even trust me._

Zelos sat up, drawing his eyes through the empty room. His gaze fell upon Lloyd's trademark red coat, carelessly discarded on a chair. A thought crossed his mind.

Before he could stop himself, he slid out of bed, slowly making his way to the chair. He dragged his fingers across the soft material, smoothed out the wrinkles and plucked at the buttons. He settled the coat over his shoulders, letting the sleeves hang, drawing the collar around his neck. He wrapped one of the ridiculous ribbons around his hand, rubbing it between thumb and finger.

It smelled like Lloyd. It smelled like the outdoors, like wind and dirt and sweat. Zelos took a deep breath. It smelled... woody, and warm. The tingling in his chest and fingers intensified, and he felt so warm. He felt so _warm._

These comforts were so few and far between for Zelos, he could be selfish for a few moments. He settled cross-legged back onto the bed, a stupid smile on his face. Without thinking, he placed a kiss on the ribbon in his hand.

"Thanks, bud," he muttered into the collar. "I trust you too."


End file.
